"That is a trifle, señor," said the Jefe. "My own tailor shall provide you with garments within an hour or two. The whole city will be eager to hear your story, and I cannot be denied."
Will accepted his fate philosophically. The General was put into safe quarters in the city jail: a telegram was immediately sent to the President at Caracas, telling him the news and asking for instructions: and then the Jefe himself took Will to his tailor's, and gave orders that he should be becomingly arrayed. He would have done the same for Ruggles; but that worthy, at the first mention of a banquet, had quietly slipped away. He told Will next day that he couldn't trust himself at such a festivity.
"You see, they wouldn't have beer," he said, "and wine would bowl me over in no time. Besides, their champagne is filthy stuff."
There is no need to relate what happened at the Jefe's hospitable table. Will was the hero of the hour, and supremely uncomfortable. It was very late before the party broke up, and it is a regrettable fact that the Jefe, when he took Will home as his guest for the night, talked a great deal of nonsense.
"Ah!" said Ruggles, when Will hinted at this next day, "there's nothing keeps a man so safe as having two pounds a week and no more."
In the morning an order came from the President that General Carabaño should be immediately sent to Caracas. He gave at the same time a cordial invitation to Señor Pentelow to visit him. This Will promptly and gratefully declined by telegraph. He had had a conversation with the Jefe. It appeared that a few days before, scouts had reported that Colonel Orellana's force had broken up. No doubt news of General Carabaño's abduction had reached them, and they recognized that the revolution had fizzled out. Being relieved of further anxiety on this score, the Jefe readily acceded to Will's request that he would send a small force by steamer up the Orinoco, in order to effect the release of the prisoners. General Carabaño's hacienda was about a hundred miles from the junction, and remote from the railway. It could best be reached by ascending the tributary until it ceased to be navigable, a few miles beyond De Mello's hacienda, and then by riding across country. The journey would be too hazardous for Will and Ruggles to attempt alone while Captain Espejo still had any force at command; but a small party under Colonel Blanco could no doubt easily dispose of them, and then the way would be open.
Accordingly a steamer left Bolivar at ten o'clock, carrying Colonel Blanco and fifty well-armed men, together with the two Englishmen and their native helpers. Will had not forgotten to have Azito's arm properly attended to by a surgeon, nor to buy a good supply of petrol. The hydroplane was towed. With some difficulty Will had persuaded the doctor to accompany the expedition in order to assist the men who had been injured when the train was thrown off the rails. The doctor was doubtful of getting his fees.
At the junction Colonel Blanco disembarked with Will and some of his officers to view the scene of the smash. Engine and trucks lay, of course, where they had fallen, with broken rifles and other evidences of the catastrophe. Steaming along the river again, they came to a halt where there was no longer sufficient draught for the vessel, and marched over the few miles to the hacienda. Here they found all the rooms occupied by a score of injured men, attended only by Indians. They had been brought in a few hours before, after a terrible night in the woods. Captain Espejo was one of the most seriously injured, as was only to be expected from his perilous position on the cab of the engine. All the men who were able to ride had decamped. Colonel Blanco was much interested in seeing the hole in the stable wall by which Will had escaped, and the room where General Carabaño was captured.
Next morning Will and Ruggles set off on horseback with a dozen of the Colonel's men, under Azito's guidance, for the General's hacienda. It was a long and fatiguing journey, through woods, across streams, now on bare rock, now in swamp whose squelching ground covered the horses' fetlocks. When they arrived at the precipice where Ruggles had escaped, nothing would satisfy him but to halt and scratch his initials on the cliff.
"Just like a tripper," said Will, laughing.